"Malcolm has one of those pure, warm folk voices (two parts Archie Fisher,one part Dick Gaughan) that one never tires of listening to."-- Dirty Linen.................... "One of the finest singing voices in Scotland in any style." -- The Living Tradition ................

Live in Glenfarg - Lyrics (Page 1)
Lochanside (Tune McLellan; words and arrangement Jim Malcolm MCPS PRS; pub Malcolm)
Come the winter, cold and dreary
Brings the hawk down from the high scree
to the whins where snowy hares hide
All around the Lochanside
Come the spring the land lies weary
Till the sun shines out so cheery
Brings the bloom, for all of June¹s pride
All around the Lochanside

If you'd been you¹d have seen the scatter
O the peezies o¹er the machair
When above the tawny owl glides
All around the Lochanside
And the heron he comes a-creeping
Through the rashes so green and dreeping
to the pool where wily trout slide
All around the Lochanside

Aye if you ever have a reason
To be here in any season
Come and try the barley bree in
Round the fire on Lochanside

Summer time the fish are louping
Dippers in the burnies couping
Swallows fly from dawn til evens-tide
All around the Lochanside
By the autumn the pinks are winging
Blaeberries o¹er the moors are hanging
Salmon through the surging spate fight
All around the Lochanside

If ye¹d been ye¹d have seen the scatter
O the peezies o¹er the machair
When above the tawny owl glides
All around the Lochanside
Aye if you ever have a reason
To be here in any season
Come and try the barley bree in
Round the fire on Lochanside
Aye if you ever have a notion
To be welcomed with devotion
Travel home o¹er any ocean
To be here on Lochanside.

Battle of Waterloo (Tune traditional; words and arrangement Jim Malcolm MCPS PRS; pub Malcolm)

Spring comes to Kirrie, all the world¹s in bloom,
Winter is forgiven now, fooled by April¹s broom,
Kirrie, oh Kirrie, you were aye my hame
Till Napoleon¹s bloody cannon hit their aim,
Jeanie oh Jeanie, I am surely done,
Stricken down in battle, at the mooth o Boney¹s guns,
Jeannie oh Jeannie, aye sae dear tae me,
Let me hold you in my mind afore I dee

For the cold returns in autumn
when the wind rakes the trees,
And the summer lies forgotten
In a cold bed of leaves,
As winter begins aye mind Boney,
It wasn¹t only you,
Who was broken on the field of Waterloo.

Surgeon oh surgeon, leave me wi my pain,
Save your knife for others, who will surely rise again,
Surgeon oh surgeon, leave my blood to pour,
Let it drain into the bitter clay once more,

For the cold returns in autumn
when the wind rakes the trees,
And the summer lies forgotten
In a cold bed of leaves,
As winter begins aye mind Boney,
It wasn¹t only you,
Who was broken on the field of Waterloo.

Daughter oh daughter, listen dear tae me,
Never wed a sodger, or a widow you will be
Daughter oh daughter, curse your lad to die,
Ere he catches the recruiting sergeant¹s eye,

For the cold returns in autumn
When the wind rakes the trees,
And the summer lies forgotten
In a cold bed of leaves,
As winter begins aye mind Boney,
It wasn¹t only you,
Who was broken on the field of Waterloo.

Boney oh Boney, war was aye your game,
Bloody field your table, cannon yours to aim,
Boney oh Boney, we aye lived the same,
Drilling laddies not to fear the muskets¹ flame,

For the cold returns in autumn
When the wind rakes the trees,
And the summer lies forgotten
In a cold bed of leaves,
As winter begins aye mind Boney,
It wasn¹t only you,
Who was broken on the field of Waterloo.

Glenlogie(Trad, arranged Jim Malcolm MCPS PRS)

here were four and twenty nobles stood at the king¹s ha¹
And bonnie Glenlogie was the flooer o them a¹
There was six and six nobles rade thro¹ Banchory fair
And bonnie Glenlogie was the flooer o them there

There was nine and nine ladies sat in the king¹s ha¹
Bonnie Jean o Bethelnie was the flooer o them a¹
Doon cam Jeannie Gordon, she cam tripping doonstairs
And she¹s favoured Glenlogie o a¹ that was there
Glenlogie, Glenlogie gin ye prove sae kind
My love¹s laid on you and I¹ve told ye my mind
He turned him roond lightly as the Gordons does a¹
I thank ye, Jeannie Gordon but I¹m promised awa¹

She ca¹d tae her maidens for tae make her a bed
Wi ribbons and napkins tae tie up her head
Then oot spak her faither and a wise man was he
I¹ll wad ye tae Dumfendrum he¹s mair gowd than he

O haud your tongue faither for that maunna be
Gin I get nae Glenlogie for him will I dee
Then her faither¹s ain chaplain a man o great skill
He wrote a braid letter and indited it weel

A pox on ye Logie noo sin¹ it is so
A lady¹s love is on ye must she die in her woe?
A pox on ye Logie noo sin¹ it is time
A lady¹s love¹s laid on ye, must she die in her prime?

When Glenlogie got the letter he being amang men
It¹s oot spak Glenlogie what does young women mean?
When he looked on the letter a light lauch gied he
But e¹er he read ower a tear blint his e¹e.

Gae saddle me the black horse and gae saddle me the broon
Bonnie Jeannie o Bethelnie will be dead e¹er I win
But the horses werenae saddled nor led on the green
Till bonnie Glenlogie was three mile his lane

Pale and wan was she when Glenlogie cam in
But red and rosy grew she when she kent it was him
Whaur lies your pain lady does it lie in your head
Whaur lies your pain lady does in lie in your side?

Oh, na, na Glenlogie you¹re far frae the pairt
The pain I lie under it lies in my heart
Turn roond Jeannie Gordon turn on your side
And I¹ll be the bridegroom and ye¹ll be the bride

Noo, Jeannie¹s gotten mairried and her tocher doon told
Bonnie Jean o Bethelnie was scarce sixteen years auld
Bethelnie, oh Bethelnie, ye shine whaur ye stand
And the heather bells aroon ye shine ower Fyvie¹s land.

Jimmy¹s Gone to Flanders (Tunes trad; words Jim Malcolm MCPS PRS; pub Malcolm)

Jimmy¹s gone to Flanders, his fiddle lies upon his bed
It was his father¹s fiddle, though he¹s aye been shy to practise it
Jimmy¹s gone to Flanders, his fishing creel¹s a tangle
From the night he and Willie fished the Earn though there was no moon

Jimmy¹s gone to Flanders, he¹s spoilt the old dog rotten
With scraps below the table, though I told him time and time again
Jimmy¹s gone to Flanders, his football boots are sodden
For they¹ve no been near dubbing since he bought them new frae Sandy Broon

When Jimmy¹s home from Flanders he¹ll be shamed to clean thae football boots
And sort out all thon tangle, for the Earn I hear is fishing good
When Jimmy¹s home from Flanders we¹ll be sat down by the table
And we¹ll coax him to his fiddle: ³Jimmy, gie us the Bonawe Highlanders.²

Jimmy¹s gone to Flanders, though he had a job at Logie¹s yard
But all the lads were joining, it¹ll all by over by Christmas time
Jimmy¹s gone to Flanders, though he¹s no¹ the strength his father was,
I¹m sure he¹ll be worthy and that Jocky would have burst with pride.

Jimmy¹s gone to Flanders, and I ken he has a lassie
Her father saw them walking by themselves below the Falls of May
Jimmy¹s gone to Flanders, he¹s as secret as his father was
But I caught her weeping as the sergeant marched him to the train.

When Jimmy¹s home from Flanders he¹ll be shamed to clean thae football boots
And sort out all thon tangle, for the Earn I hear is fishing good
When Jimmy¹s home from Flanders we¹ll be sat down by the table
And we¹ll coax him to his fiddle: ³Jimmy, gie us the Bonawe Highlanders.²

Road to New York (State) (Jim Malcolm MCPS PRS, pub Malcolm)

Driving through New England in the fall
English names I¹ve never seen before
Wooden houses glint among the trees
Like white horses on a golden sea.

The freeway gently weaves
Through an endless land of trees
And the road to New York leads
Through a billion turning leaves.

Houses all decked out for Hallowe¹en
It¹s bigger here than I have ever seen
Pumpkin lanterns draped as blackened ghouls
Like some Christmas time for darker souls.

The freeway gently weaves
Through an endless land of trees
And the road to New York leads
Through a billion turning leaves.

Soon now every leaf will tumble down
And leave a golden carpet on the ground
But I¹ll be home by then and this will be
Just a memory to haunt my dreams.

The freeway gently weaves
Through an endless land of trees
And the Road to New York leads
Through a billion turning leaves.

Forfar Sodger (Trad, arranged Jim Malcolm MCPS PRS)

Forfar Sodger (Trad, arranged Jim Malcolm MCPS PRS)

In Forfar County I was born, but faith I div think shame, sir
Tae tell o the weary life I led, afore I left my hame, sir

Hurra, hurra, wi my tilt a fal air al aye doh

My faither was a weaver poor, as ever filled a spool, sir
Never was meat cam tae wir door, but jist a pun¹ at Yule, sir

When I was six I gaed tae school, because it was the fashion
And every Sunday tae the kirk tae save me o a thrashin¹

They learnt me there tae read and write, and learnt the rule o three, sir
But a nobler thought cam tae my mind, a sodger I would be, sir

So I gaed doon tae Forfar toon, all in the Forfar County
And I signed up wi¹ Sergeant Brown, for forty pounds o bounty

They gaed me clothes tae hap ma back, mittens for my hands, sir
Swore I was the bravest chiel, in a¹ the Hielan clan, sir

We spent the maist o a¹ our time, just marchin¹ up and doon, sir
A feather bonnet tae wir cap, and poothered tae wir croon, sir

But fegs they gart me change my tune, and sent me off tae Spain, sir
Where 40 regiments in a row, came marchin¹ o¹er the plain, sir

For three long days and nichts we fought, I thought ¹twould never end, sir
¹Til a bullet came fustlin¹ through my leg, and I up and fired again, sir

The surgeon came and dressed my wounds, they said I would be lame, sir
But I got hud o some oxter staffs, and I came hirplin¹ hame, sir

Noo a¹ the things that I¹ve been through, I¹ve scarcely time tae mention
For noo I¹m back in Forfarshire, and living frae my pension.

Losin¹ Auld Reekie (Jim Malcolm MCPS PRS; pub Malcolm)

Forty pence in tens, I can¹t wait to spend
Gets me north across the Forth Road Bridge,
Winding down my window, reaching out to pay the man,
Cruisin¹, losin¹ Auld Reekie

Chorus: Singing though there¹s no-one there to hear me
A good old tune of which I never weary
No city critics to cramp my style or jeer me,
Cruisin¹, losin¹ Auld Reekie

Turn off for Dunfermline, the motorway¹s gey boring
Going to treat myself the long way home
Motorways are faster, but that¹s not what I¹m after
Cruisin¹, losin¹ Auld Reekie.

Trucking on through Dollar, Castle Campbell o¹er my shoulder
Glen Devon is the passage that I¹m seeking
And my motor¹s working harder, as it climbs tae Auchterarder
Cruisin¹, losin¹ Auld Reekie

Fields are full of action, wi¹ the farmers in their traction,
Tattie pickers bending over baskets.
Gulls ahint the tractor as it rips the grun¹ wi clatter
Cruisin¹, losin¹ Auld Reekie.

Not that far from Crieff, Comrie tries to tempt me,
With the finest chip shop in the county
But I¹ve vowed to keep my hunger for a bridie o¹er in Forfar,
Cruisin¹, losin¹ Auld Reekie
Chorus

Sma Glen, Amulree, Dunkeld, Blairgowrie
Hurtling through Blairgowrie, sun¹s shining but it¹s showery
Cruisin¹, losin¹ Auld Reekie

Skiting into Angus, via Kirrie and Padanarum,
Stopping on the other side of Forfar
Well I could have got there quicker
But I¹m fed up cutting corners
Cruisin¹, losin¹ Auld Reekie
Chorus

Neptune (Jim Malcolm MCPS PRS; pub Malcolm)

Neptune, I think I'm in love with the sea
How do I woo you and make you love me
I'm drenched by your passion
Enthralled by your anger
Becalmed by your beauty
How do I make you love me?
But when he spoke, it was a plea not a roar
If you want my love, then go and tell them all:

Don't oil my beaches, don't slaughter my whales
Don't cross me with diesel, cross me with sail
Give me some time to heal up my wounds
Give me more poison and I will die soon.

Neptune I don't understand what you fear
Here round my island the waters are clear
I live from your riches, your birds and your fishes
I never would choke you, what do you need from me here?
But then he spoke of all the change caused by me
Your damage seems small, but let me recall
That in your grandfather's day there ran salmon
You could walk on their backs
Now what's left of great shoals
Those that slip through the cracks
Now the salmon's in cages, gorged on fishmeal
Sucked from some other sea by cruel profiteers, so...

Don't oil my beaches, don't slaughter my whales
Don't cross me with diesel, cross me with sail
Give me some time to heal up my wounds
Give me more poison and I will die soon.

Achiltibuie (Jim Malcolm MCPS PRS; pub Malcolm)

When the springtime comes
I get hungry for the north
Like the geese I want to fly
Make an arrow in the sky
I want to travel like a salt sea tinker
Round the Hebridean Isles
Cos I've fallen, hook, line, sinker
For a bonny McKenzie child
And I'll be waiting for you in Achiltibuie.

When the primroses grow by the roads
To the mountains of Skye
I'll be shedding my clothes
Cause if feels like the fourth of July

I want to truck along a hundred B roads
See the Hebrides in style
But I'll be sailing the way that the wind blows
To my bonnie McKenzie child
And I'll be waiting for you in Achiltibuie.

I want to travel like a salt sea tinker
Round the Hebridean Isles
Cos I've fallen, hook, line, sinker
For a bonny McKenzie child
And I'll be waiting for you in
Achiltibuie.